Through Raids and Charades
by Gumdrop Boo - Ch4rms
Summary: "Of course she would make this complicated. Since when was anything about the new Ingerman bride uncomplicated?"  A series of shorts pertaining to Ruffnut and Fishlegs' intimacy. M for sexual content.
1. Observances of the Wedding Night

Of course she would make this complicated.

Since when was anything about the new Ingerman bride _uncomplicated_?

A former Thorston in name but still very much a Thorston in body and spirit.

And now she stood bare except her bottom under-wraps. Her long hair was unruly because she had unbraided it while waiting for him and it fell modestly in front of her chest - and even with all that skin Fishlegs still wasn't able to see the true view of what he should be able on his wedding night.

"You want me, you come and get me," she issued the challenge.

He thanked Odin that he wasn't special enough to have the witnesses present, they only were required to see him enter his new home where his new wife was waiting.

_New._

Everything had changed; everything was new.

The smell of the wood, the candlelight bouncing off the strange walls, his future with that wildcat of girl - all new.

Except the actual girl who was glaring under a smirk if that was possible, that was pretty normal. She had done that when they played games, when he didn't even think of her in that way, back before she had somehow - unbeknownst to both - stolen his heart. Among raids and charades he had fallen hard.

She stood in one spot while swaying her hips slightly or what she had of them. She was so slender, he was afraid he could break her if he wasn't careful. Though he knew better, he had seen how strong she was, no doubt packing muscle on those long bones. Growing up with a brother like Tuffnut and wrestling her way around the village was not an activity for the frail. A plus ten skill in combat at least.

"I'm tired though, just come over here," he removed his belt and pulled his wedding tunic over his head; that was the first issue of request as her husband.

"Nuh-uh," was the first of many times she wouldn't obey them. She said it causally, not obstinate. Playing with her loose hair, tantalizing him because so many movements to the side would expose what it had been covering, "You wanted to marry me, so come and get me."

She didn't mention that she was just as guilty for the union.

He had to wonder why she insisted on a sudden cat-and-mouse game, especially on their wedding night after a long day of celebration.

He observed there still were bits of forget-me-nots weaved into her hair. She didn't like flowers all that much but the Widow Thorston had put them there. That day she smelled better than he could ever remember, and she looked the best he had ever recalled. Probably because her hair had been braided different, and oh that hair, it was beautiful when groomed properly.

"By the way, love the ring," she held up her hand with a smirk and splayed her fingers to show him his fine craftmanship. He had made her ring out of sheep's bone.

"Thanks," he smiled, he was tired after being on his feet all day. Toasting mead with his father and family, even with Hiccup who gave them the best of wishes for a happy future and prosperous marriage.

"I'm _wait_ing," his wife's impatience cut through his thoughts.

He sighed and stood, "What do you want me to do, hold your hand and walk to to the bed?" he reached out for her but to his surprise, she evaded it and ended up at his back, then darkness engulfed the room for she had blown out the only candle keeping the room alit.

He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his back, her hair tickling his spine, a breathy voice at his ear, "No, I want you to catch me - if you _can_."  
>He tried to grab at her, she was already on the other side of the room.<p>

"What? Okay, little miss intoxicated!"

She dodged another grab attempt by her husband which sent her into pits of laughter. She wasn't intoxicated, he knew she had a high tolerance and was just elated or giddy from the day's events.

She jumped onto the bed and leaped over him but he reached up and engulfed her in his arms in the way a fish emerges from the water and catches it's dragonfly prey in mouth.

How did she have so much energy?

He effectively dropped her onto the bed, where they were supposed to have been in the first place but she proved she was not yet caught by her attempted escape once more by way of a cheap shot tickling to his sides. He burst into a laugh but he was ready to return the favor and rendered her a quivering mess of giggles and then was easily able to pin her where she lay.

She had fallen back into the pillows, laughing, and flushed and greatly amused by her antics; her hair was spread all around her shoulders in a pile of thousands of pale blonde threads that he couldn't even see, only feel at his fingertips.

He kissed her.

She didn't fight that, only lifted her long neck and served it back twice as hard and passionate and he knew that she was anticipating this part of their marriage all night. Perhaps that is why she was delaying it with nonsense.

His father and the other men told him there would be better nights for love, that most ladies hated the first time. That knowledge caused him an anxiety, because he knew Ruffnut would hate it if wasn't good and he had it in his head already that it wouldn't be because of the facts. He could never ignore the facts.

He felt fingers tug at the waist of his breeches, insistent to remove them.

"Hey!" he was dismayed at her impatience, wondering if her mother and the rest of the women in charge of preparing her had told her the truth like the men had done to him. Surely they hadn't if she was so rearing to go.

"Get with the program, no clothes allowed," she retorted and slipped those remaining under-wraps off, using her leg to fling them somewhere onto the floor. He felt her hands roam around until she found his wanting.

His face naturally flushed at being so exposed, even to her, even though she was his wife. He wasn't used to sharing his nudity. It was new.

"Mighty Thor you are huge," she stated as-a-matter-of-fact and he could feel a warm grasping from below. "I figured, but I never knew for sure."

His flush only increased, reminded of those times he had noticed her appraising his groin area before the wedding.

It was now obvious she was the one in control, as she pushed him back and removed his breeches entirely, crawling forward like a sleek cat of prey until she was pressing her body against his once more, skin soft and heated. He could feel her heart beating through his chest and anticipated that hint of wildness he admired in her, he hoped she never ever lost it.

"Ready?"

He wasn't sure, was she? She had asked; logically that meant she was and it was only further evident as one of her longs legs was thrown over his. He had grown hard and she had felt that; physically he was ready- mentally he still had apprehension. He really did not look forward to her hating him afterward.

She lowered as he rose.

Their eyes were closed, their voices escaped - his in a groan of pleasure, and hers of pain because of entering that tightness- pushing, easing until their marriage was considered official.

She let out a sharp forced noise of agitation of taking him and he embraced her at once, wishing to end it quickly no matter how good it felt on his side because he hated causing her to feel that way. They tilted the opposite direction and her nails dug into his shoulders to keep from falling back into the bed again.

"I'll be done soon," he whispered urgently, "I promise."

Her fingers slid from his shoulders to neck to pull his face closer; her forehead set at the bridge of his nose and she gave a shaky exhale, "No."

"No?"

"Just..." she had to stop talking to cringe at his movements, "Just go slow."

Slow?

Ruffnut had always been a fast-paced girl, impatient above all and this was the first time she had ever wanted something to be slow. He even walked too slow for her causing her to often snap at him to hurry up.

He thought that logically, the quicker it was the less she had to endure, but he acquiesced and slowed pace - anything for her not to hate him as badly.

She did end up on her back and had her eyes closed most of the time, even when he gave her gentle kisses along her clavicle and shoulder that were meant as an apology for causing her discomfort.

As his punishment, she kept biting him off an on between her sharp gasps, nipping at his earlobe, his neck, his shoulder, and even though through her actions there was a little sting left in his skin, he didn't mind.

He tried focusing on other things to keep from the edge of a quick inevitable build up. The cricket song outside, the taste of Ruffnut's lips, the Marsh Tiger's wing span...but every second it was harder and harder for Fishleg's to think of anything but the fact he was finally making love to Ruffnut, and it felt - to put it honestly - _awesome_.

Then, he just couldn't go slow anymore, it was impossible to hold the instinct in. The rest of it was fast until that release of desire came and was shared with her. He had to let out his breath he seemed to have been holding, lungs now hungry for the night air.

It was done.

He couldn't deny it felt amazing, it felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before- no pleasure thus far could measure to it or even compare; not that tingle of cold skin meeting the sunlight, or the delicious taste of honeyed pastry, or learning a new piece of information never known before about a dragon species.

One look at Ruffnut's shape laying there under him like a dead fish and he felt guilty again for it obviously wasn't the same excited and glorious experience for her. She probably got more pleasure from sewing than what he had just done to her.

She hated sewing.

"Ruff?" he withdrew his body from hers and prodded her.

"What?" she snapped, which caused his his mood to lower a notch.

"I'm sorry."

"Meh, they told me it would suck the first time," still, he could hear the hollowed disappointment was hiding in her voice.

He could breathe a sigh of relief knowing that they had warned her, and that she hadn't had high expectations with him their first sexual encounter but still couldn't help to feel disheartened that is sucked for her and that she had carried a small amount of hope they had been wrong.

"Then I'm double-sorry."

He heard her sigh and she rolled over to face him, "Next time will be better."

_Next time?_

That was a good sign, that there was going to be a next time.  
>If Fish had it his way the next time would be as soon as he was good to go again.<br>But that was hopeful thinking. They were both exhausted and Ruffnut was surely sore.

"Why were you so excited though if you knew?"

"Because I got to be with you. Sure, I could be married off to some ogre and always thought I would be but out of all the men to be with, I get you-"

He felt his heart smile with her implied compliment. She loved him the best.

"The biggest _geek_ on the island," she finished her thought with a chuckle, and though her words were distasteful, her tone was of endearment. Her lips gave a quick, violent smack to his cheek.

He couldn't help but to laugh, "What a pair we make eh?"

She made a light snicker as she grabbed the fur blanket and covered herself, before cuddling into his arms, "unlogical."

"_Illogical_," he corrected out of habit and felt an elbow to his ribs.

But he knew it to be true; village men didn't understand why she had no qualms in being with Fishlegs. They expected her to throw up a wild fuss but the key was observation. Despite their obvious differences, Fishlegs knew more than anyone of Ruffnut's drive, her secrets, her fears even...he knew what she liked, what she loved, and what she couldn't stand. He knew how her mind worked, because even crazy had a pattern.

Not to say there wouldn't be surprises in their future but he was sure that she loved all of him in her own little ways and knew without a doubt he loved her no matter what the world would say otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know Backroads did a wonderful and hilarious Rufflegs wedding night one shot awhile ago-but the truth is that there are not that many M Rufflegs fanfic out there among the tons of Astrid, Hiccup, Tuffnut, and Toothless. So I decided to do the basic wedding night premise but get into the 'realism' of the 'first time' instead of fantastical lemons; the Ruffnut/Fishlegs characterizations are based on what is developed through my seasonal series, and is more dramatic romance - it's tantalizing and sweet, and the thoughts of boy who got his girl and cares for her deeply as well as wants her to be happy because that's the way the boy thinks. He observes :)


	2. Proof of Love

It had been better that time.

He had made her make noises that weren't whines or yelps or groans of discomfort but rather a sort of…pleasure. They echoed in his ears and he relished them.

Watching her face transform like that - her eyes roll back, her jaw fall open, her lips tighten into a round shape after a cascade of breathy gasps – it just pushed him over the edge.

He had just untangled himself from her limbs, catching his breath, calming down from his elated state, feeling accomplished for once in love-making.

Maybe he was now at a plus five? He hadn't figured out all the statistics on it. He smiled thinking about it, _sex_tistics.

She had scratched him again, he was getting used to it but the abrupt stabbing of nails into the skin of his shoulder left a bunch of dull throbs. His skin was a shade pinker than hers but far more freckled. He brushed his fingers across the marks and winced a bit. She really was a wildcat in a girl's body.

"Fish."

"Yeah?" He was slightly startled she had said anything. She didn't speak so soon afterward unless he had done something wrong. His accomplishment wilted –_ I guess_ a _plus two then_. He was learning, they both were.

"I don't want you seed me anymore."

He had to roll that request around in his head, wondering why she wouldn't want it. He had done it the few times before. He thought she had enjoyed it after participating more and more.

"Why?"

He watched her as she laid there with a thoughtful frown, gathering words mentally; but his eyes couldn't help but to travel down and admire the body he had just finished claiming- her long neck, her breasts, her waist, her sharp hips, and her legs - oh those legs that went on for days.

She was his. She couldn't be tamed and he never wanted her to be. He liked to go along for the wild rides.

He still grew a blush when he looked at and thought of her like that.

She lifted up, her hair dragging across her body in a rather modest movement as she came face to face with him with very serious eyes, "I don't want to have a child-"

They had briefly discussed this issue after it was decided they were to wed, but Fishlegs hadn't forgotten that look of concern, the same look breaking through her features now.

"But-"

"Not yet anyway. Can't we just _enjoy _ourselves while we can?"

They had a month to do that and he wasn't against the notion, plus he'd do anything to make Ruffnut happy. He had promised to before Odin. Though it was expected for them to produce children they weren't in a hurry. Most men were eager to have sons and pass their names but Fishlegs had been adopted; he had no lineage to be proud of or to pass. He was actually very nervous about the 'children' consequence of being a married adult. He didn't know much about them and silently noted they would be something for him to study in the future. He could always ask his parents who had raised him since he was young, or maybe even his friends. Hiccup and Astrid were expecting soon.

"Okay," he finally agreed aloud and pulled the quilt her mother had crafted across them both to ward of the evening chill that was seeping in and replacing their passionate heat.

Ruffnut had seemed to be holding her breath in wait of his answer.

She leaned forward and slid her arms around him, not making it all the way. He did the same, making up for the rest of the length - both his arms engulfed her close to his chest. The outward chill was banished with her body against his. The thought of ever losing her struck a deep sadness inside of him and he only took comfort in letting his chin settle on top of her head and taking a breath of her.

She didn't thank him for his understanding in the matter, and she didn't have to.

The grip tightening around him and the head suddenly buried at his neck was enough to know she was grateful for his cooperation.


	3. Theory of Pace

The best thing in terms of sexual encounters with Fishelgs, was the fact that he was the right height.

Ruffnut was incredibly long, and had no problems wrapping those lengthy legs around her husband as he held her against the wall of their home and made love to her. He was at the height where their lips could meet without anyone straining a muscle in their neck.

He had become a bit bolder with her, still always shy in the beginning but really getting into it, into _her,_ as the activity continued. She loved him in such a state and only encouraged it by moaning his name and raking her fingers across his shoulders until they reached the back of his scalp.

In these moments he couldn't talk. He had a nervous habit of chattering on during intercourse but she could barely concentrate on words let alone a thought and only Odin knew how he did.

So she kept his mouth busy too.

Her eyes opened a crack, observing the raw lust radiating from him. She loved that. She loved being wanted. His own eyes were closed, locks of dark blonde falling in front of them from the jostling movements, but he seemed _free_.

She drew out a long moan which caused him to thrust upward harder, his hands were anchored to her rear to support that upright position; the wood of the walls, rubbed her shoulder blades raw, and every so often the back of her head would bump against the framing too.

Those little pricks of pain did not even register for her, she only wanted more.

He somehow noticed though, and it would bring him back. He would slow—descending to a more gentle rhythm of loving, ending that fast-paced ride.

He removed them from the wall, accidentally catching her head on the overhearing candles that lit the room. She didn't mind, she just let out a delighted laugh as he fell with her into their bed, laying a long kiss to her lips. She much preferred a vigorous Fishlegs, that side of her husband was exciting and inhibited. It was the one time he threw logic and reason away and just took her instinctively.

She unwrapped her legs from him now that it was no longer necessary for their positioning, instead sliding one upward until it draped over his shoulder with her ankle brushing at his earlobe. He had slowed pace dramatically, it was soothing and romantic but boring—it didn't cause her that thrill she sought.

He gotten to be a good kisser but he was unimaginative with his hands. They always found way to her breasts and nothing else, so she was left to take care of the rest. She had tried showing him how but he was rather lost and clueless – she blamed the men who had given him bedding advice.

He suddenly straightened, signaling he was near the end and grabbed her thighs and pulled them flush against him, pumping faster.

Her own finger artistry resulted in a satisfying finish before she forced herself away as he did the same – a mix of pleasure and annoyance was shouted but she remedied the offense by immediately stroking him out, not minding the spill that landed on her body-as long as it didn't land inside her.

Most husbands wouldn't have agreed to the request, most would have just deposited their part because it was their right, and she knew it was on her part to conceive a child but was hardly ready to think of that. Not just the aspect of motherhood but the aspect of staying alive. In her mind, babies outright killed – and she didn't want to test her fertility, not yet – not when she was having so much _fun _with him.

He had crawled next to her, pulling her into a cuddle to catch breath and rest. Soon he would be chattering about something or snoring asleep.

How many more times would she get to make love with him before the inevitable happened? This was her honeymoon, and she would enjoy it the way she intended – _unburdened_.


	4. Scales of Appetite

There were times when Ruffnut left Fishlegs hanging. He was hung, but being _hung_ and left _hanging_ were two separate things entirely.

The truth was, and he didn't know why he was so surprised-she was a very sexual young woman. He had to wonder if he caused it or she was just that way to begin with. By looks of them, it looked like he had the bigger appetite but no one knew her sexual appetite exceeded his by ten times.

"I need some _meat_."

Anyone would assume she was asking the man at the market for a cut of the pig he had slaughtered. Fishlegs knew better by the way she glanced at him with a telling and sly indication. He had involuntarily blushed at her words and hoped no one around them noticed. He had joined her to carry the meat slab. Ruff would dry the pork after they delivered it back to the lodge. Her cooking was crude and sometimes bland but Ruff salted and dried pork so it tasted good.

She received the cut and she placed it into a basket he had been carrying. Fishlegs didn't own any pigs or else he would have cut his own meat. They had chickens, but the meat on those lasted only a day or two - as mentioned Fishlegs had a large appetite.

Ruff also hated plucking them, though she liked chasing them and trying to catch them. She found it morbidly amusing when she cut their heads off.

He had been absentmindedly following his wife, thinking about food, when to his surprise he felt a forceful grab at his yarbles. He jumped and not without a yelp.

"_Shhhh_!" she chided and looked behind them to see if anyone had noticed they had slipped between two houses, which was lacking in space, especially for Fish's shoulders. He had an inkling of what she wanted based off her comment and her thrill-seeking personality.

"No."

"_No_?"

She was obviously into certain things he was not. She was greedy.

"This is indecent."

"This is _hot_."

Her palm slid upward, rubbing the material of his breeches against his organ and he involuntarily shivered.

"No one will catch us."

"You saying that means someone will."

"Put the basket down, that big thing will hide us enough."

He could feel her fingers slowly untying and loosening the strings at his groin, his mouth seemed to go dry.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath my skirt," she mentioned and he knew she only looked at him in the eye to see his reaction.

She was doing it. That thing where she teased him and left him a ball of breathy wanting. She would play with him and release him without giving him even a taste of consolation prize for participating in her cruel game. One last tug on the string and he was exposed. His hands were full, so he did put down the basket with the intention to refuse her. She couldn't always have her way.

"No," he said again, his voice a bit more soft and unsure because her hand had wrapped around him, stroking ever so slowly which only made his arousal harder. His _body _never took logic into consideration. It answered to her only.

She stopped touching him and lifted her leg so her foot was planted by his side, bracing her between the structures. She inched the skirt up her thigh, proving her claim.

She touched herself.

Dear Odin the All-Father she was a dirty minx.

"Stop it," he heard himself say but couldn't look anywhere else but at his wife as she slowly rose her hips, back pressed against the wall, waiting for him to join in on her private party.

"Yeah right," she replied, a bit breathless.

Fishlegs believed love-making was something that should be done inside the home, or a private spot - _not _where one could be witnessed outside of the wedding night.

"If you don't hurry up and get with the program you're going to miss out on all the fun."

She just had to close her eyes and let out a soft and throaty breath to convince him that he wanted to have fun, his lower half was already fully agreeable to that notion.

He moved between her legs, connecting into her. It was such a tight space they were in that it caused discomfort. Why did she insist to have him here of all places? He was a broad viking and this narrow space could barely contain him.

He ended up sliding down, pulling her completely on top and had to wonder if she had planned all of this out. She was sitting in his lap, and it wasn't so bad because her skirt hid any questionable activity. Someone could see them and think they were just being sweet on each other instead of the truth that the skirt concealed.

She took all of him as she grind down, and it was ecstasy - nearly causing him to forget where they were, his eyelids briefly closed and fluttered.

He kept a hold of her hips to keep her movements to a minimum so if anyone did see, it wouldn't be so obvious how many decency codes of conduct they were violating.  
>By rising and falling and riding him in such a place she must know he could barely contain his excitement. When he started bucking a horrified look crossed her face and she tried removing herself - but the space was too tight - the position they were in was not easy to untangle from to avoid the end.<p>

"No - don't!" she commanded in a fierce whisper but she should have known it didn't work like that - he couldn't turn it on and off at will and definitely couldn't stop in the middle. Breathing a few deep gasps of pleasure, held her tightly, gradually easing to a stop and not without silent apologies. He didn't mean to break his promise but it was unavoidable and mostly her fault.

She had been left to receive the result of his love-making, all one hundred percent of it that he packed and released.  
>She had been avoiding it since they had been married three months prior.<p>

So maybe she hadn't planned this out at all - maybe she was just naughty and greedy for him and she didn't take into account her choice of place. It was bad because maybe she really just was in the mood for some meat but ended up getting a bowl full of chowder.


End file.
